Memory's Grave
Oct. 3rd, 2005 02:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jack_babalon"This is it" she announces triumphantly.
"What?" I shrug, it's all dark now, and i've spent the last fifteen minutes crouched in the bushes waiting for the security guard to finish his cigarette and drive his golf cart to some other spot. I go to light up my own but figure the cherry will give us away. Meanwhile she's twirling in little circles, her arms wide open, suddenly she's a dervish or something I guess. I say as little as possible, she's college educated which means my word 'Opinion' is her word for 'Debate'. This is my first blind date in Atlanta. Ironically she wanted to go running around the Carter Center at night, sneak in, frolic, sneak out. More of a 'stealth date' than 'blind' now that I think about it.
"Isn't it beautiful...." She whispers twirling into my arms.
"Ahhhh yeah..." My eyes adjust to the darkness so I can make out her face. Soft, vaguely Asian, bright eyes that hold the joy of an unsatiable curiosity.
"The garden..." She says annoyed, pushing herself out of my arms. I stop and look around and decide it could be. I guess. All I see is shadowed trees & the shilouetes of bushes.
"This?"
"Yes this. It's the Presidential Rose Garden. Look..." She points to a bundle of skyline peering through the trees."... and here.." She leans into a batch of shadows and returns to me, something cupped in her hands. "For you..." I reach for her hands and she puts a flower in it.
"What do I do with it?" I ask awkwardly holding the bloom in my hand.
"Pffff....it's a Rose. Y'know for a poet you don't stop and smell the flowers much do ya?"
At this point it begins to drizzle. I can hear the tapping of the rain as it comes down softly along the leaves and petals around us. Then I can smell it. Not the flowers but the air, the earth. The smell of soil & electricity before a storm.
"We should get out of here" I tell her looking for a shortcut.
"Why? Afraid of a little rain..."
"No..."
"Then stay here with me. Here..." She takes me by the hand and leans up and kisses me. A little peck on the lips. She tastes like cinnamon and for some reason I though she would. She leads me to a bench and we take a seat. The drizzling starts to come down hard. I'm soaked already which would piss me off if she wasn't soaked too. She leans into my arms and we sit there watching the shadows of roses in the rain.
That was 11 years ago. I'm sitting on my bike at sunset yesterday. I've been cruising around on my 24 speed and cruised off the bike trail to hit the Carter Center. It has some nice loops which are fun to glide down and thats when I see it. A little sign talking about the Battle of Atlanta, this was a plantation comandeered by the Federals and became a meeting point of two wings of the Union army before they marched on into the city and torched it down. Now it's a memorial, a quiet little garden empty under the silver sky. I walk in and i'm overwhelmed by the hundred shades of rose around me. The carpenter bees flying busily around me with stray butterflies joining in on the traffic. I see the same bundle of skyline from that one night over a decade ago. I take a seat on one of the benches and try to remember her name. We only had that one date. But what a date. She just giggled and we huddled for warmth as the rain came down harder and harder, roaring around us, and we began kissing. Cinnamon heat filling me with need. I dropped the rose into her lap and unbuttoned her blouse and lifted her bra over her breasts, she lifted her skirt and stradled me and all around us the world was roaring with the sky coming down.
I lean down and pluck a white rose off the stem. I twirl it between my fingers and think of her impromptu dance, I close my eyes and bring it to my nose. I inhale. Again. Desperately trying to let the scent of it open a door up to the past. I can see that little face smiling, but when I open my eyes i'm back here. I think about how great that night was. I was sick in bed with a bitch of a cold after that but it was worth it and then some. Three times. Jesus I thought she was in love with me after one date. That was probably where I fucked up. She never called me back. Her friend who set me up left town, and I lost her number. The rain smudged the ink off the ripped off corner of newspaper it was scrawled on. I look down and realize i've crushed the rose in my hand. My blister has cracked and there is a drop of blood on a white petal in my palm.
That's the story of my live folks. I want love and get poetry instead.
I light a camel.
I hop on my bike.
And I ride home the long way.
"What?" I shrug, it's all dark now, and i've spent the last fifteen minutes crouched in the bushes waiting for the security guard to finish his cigarette and drive his golf cart to some other spot. I go to light up my own but figure the cherry will give us away. Meanwhile she's twirling in little circles, her arms wide open, suddenly she's a dervish or something I guess. I say as little as possible, she's college educated which means my word 'Opinion' is her word for 'Debate'. This is my first blind date in Atlanta. Ironically she wanted to go running around the Carter Center at night, sneak in, frolic, sneak out. More of a 'stealth date' than 'blind' now that I think about it.
"Isn't it beautiful...." She whispers twirling into my arms.
"Ahhhh yeah..." My eyes adjust to the darkness so I can make out her face. Soft, vaguely Asian, bright eyes that hold the joy of an unsatiable curiosity.
"The garden..." She says annoyed, pushing herself out of my arms. I stop and look around and decide it could be. I guess. All I see is shadowed trees & the shilouetes of bushes.
"This?"
"Yes this. It's the Presidential Rose Garden. Look..." She points to a bundle of skyline peering through the trees."... and here.." She leans into a batch of shadows and returns to me, something cupped in her hands. "For you..." I reach for her hands and she puts a flower in it.
"What do I do with it?" I ask awkwardly holding the bloom in my hand.
"Pffff....it's a Rose. Y'know for a poet you don't stop and smell the flowers much do ya?"
At this point it begins to drizzle. I can hear the tapping of the rain as it comes down softly along the leaves and petals around us. Then I can smell it. Not the flowers but the air, the earth. The smell of soil & electricity before a storm.
"We should get out of here" I tell her looking for a shortcut.
"Why? Afraid of a little rain..."
"No..."
"Then stay here with me. Here..." She takes me by the hand and leans up and kisses me. A little peck on the lips. She tastes like cinnamon and for some reason I though she would. She leads me to a bench and we take a seat. The drizzling starts to come down hard. I'm soaked already which would piss me off if she wasn't soaked too. She leans into my arms and we sit there watching the shadows of roses in the rain.
That was 11 years ago. I'm sitting on my bike at sunset yesterday. I've been cruising around on my 24 speed and cruised off the bike trail to hit the Carter Center. It has some nice loops which are fun to glide down and thats when I see it. A little sign talking about the Battle of Atlanta, this was a plantation comandeered by the Federals and became a meeting point of two wings of the Union army before they marched on into the city and torched it down. Now it's a memorial, a quiet little garden empty under the silver sky. I walk in and i'm overwhelmed by the hundred shades of rose around me. The carpenter bees flying busily around me with stray butterflies joining in on the traffic. I see the same bundle of skyline from that one night over a decade ago. I take a seat on one of the benches and try to remember her name. We only had that one date. But what a date. She just giggled and we huddled for warmth as the rain came down harder and harder, roaring around us, and we began kissing. Cinnamon heat filling me with need. I dropped the rose into her lap and unbuttoned her blouse and lifted her bra over her breasts, she lifted her skirt and stradled me and all around us the world was roaring with the sky coming down.
I lean down and pluck a white rose off the stem. I twirl it between my fingers and think of her impromptu dance, I close my eyes and bring it to my nose. I inhale. Again. Desperately trying to let the scent of it open a door up to the past. I can see that little face smiling, but when I open my eyes i'm back here. I think about how great that night was. I was sick in bed with a bitch of a cold after that but it was worth it and then some. Three times. Jesus I thought she was in love with me after one date. That was probably where I fucked up. She never called me back. Her friend who set me up left town, and I lost her number. The rain smudged the ink off the ripped off corner of newspaper it was scrawled on. I look down and realize i've crushed the rose in my hand. My blister has cracked and there is a drop of blood on a white petal in my palm.
That's the story of my live folks. I want love and get poetry instead.
I light a camel.
I hop on my bike.
And I ride home the long way.